


payments

by aestheticAshes



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Creep William Afton | Dave Miller, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, Drugs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Michael Afton Needs a Hug, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Not Beta Read, Not Good, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Rape, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drug Use, Underage Rape/Non-con, William Afton | Dave Miller being a Jerk, You Have Been Warned, honestly who let william have kids, william afton's a+ parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestheticAshes/pseuds/aestheticAshes
Summary: Michael has been doing drugs and screwing around for years, since it keeps him out of the house and away from his dad.Then his dad found out.... And he wasn't as mad as Michael expected him to be.He just started collecting 'payment' for letting Michael do whatever he wants.
Relationships: Michael Afton & Original Character(s), Michael Afton/Original Character(s), Michael Afton/William Afton | Dave Miller
Comments: 10
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me say explicitly, just in case: _This is literally William screwing Michael while Michael is high._
> 
> That's what this is.
> 
> Please do not continue reading past this point if that is going to upset you. this is disgusting.

Michael was high.

This was not a new thing.

It was a Friday night, or rather a very early Saturday morning, he’d just gotten home to his father’s house at two in the morning, he was 16, and he typically spent the hours between 9PM and 7AM  _ completely _ wasted, and usually the 9:30-to-1:30 section was also filled with him getting his brains fucked out. That part depended on the night―he went way harder on Saturdays than the rest of the week, after all, so it was more like 9-to-5 on Saturdays. But tonight like most Fridays had been a 9:30-to-1:30, and he was really hoping that he hadn’t come home at a bad time.

He usually waited until closer to three, when he knew his dad would either be gone or in bed, because 10 to 3 were unsure hours on that matter.

God knew what his father did, but Michael didn’t care, especially not when he was this close to coming down from a high.

He guessed coke would do that to a person, though.

His main concerns were going to bed, not running into his dad, and making sure he’d live to get dicked down ‘tomorrow’ night too. The last two were closely intertwined.

But he knew he was struck as soon as he slipped in through the back door, because the light in his father’s study was on and he couldn’t reasonably get upstairs without potentially alerting him to his presence. He was a lot sneakier going out than coming back in, given he was  _ sober _ when he left. He wanted to curse, but his volume control was as struck as he was right now, so he’d probably make too much noise.

Could he pretend to be half asleep? Maybe.

It was doubtful, though.

He idled there at the back door for a while, but ultimately he knew it was better to face his father head on than attempt sneaking past him. So he slipped his shoes off there at the door and took a breath.

He rounded the stairs softly, coming to a stop at the study’s half-ajar door.

His father was at his desk, standing and leaned over as if he’d gotten up to go do something and had never sat back down afterwards. He didn’t look… Well. He didn’t look angry, or like he was going to be if Michael interrupted him.

So he swallowed, he prayed he could make himself quiet enough to be convincing, and shook his hoodie sleeves out over his hands like he’d hastily pulled it on.

“... Dad?” He asked, and his voice came out cracked and quiet, which was better than he’d expected to manage.

His father went momentarily rigid, turning toward him slowly and cocking his head with narrowed eyes.

“Michael.” He said, and he didn’t sound angry, just surprised, “What are you doing up?”

“Trouble sleeping.” Michael replied, which wasn’t exactly a lie―he got stoned because he had trouble sleeping through the night and he’d rather have dumb high thoughts than intrusive, violent ones. “You okay?”

It was always safer to ask his father how he was feeling than to let focus linger on himself too long, but especially right now. If his father took the bait, and he was ‘okay’, Michael could slip up to his room without any further issue.

“Hm?” He seemed a little caught off-guard by the question, but then smiled, expression softening and the crease between his eyes easing out, “Oh, I’m fine, Mikey. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay,” He said, and moved back a bit.

“Going back to bed?” His father asked, not sounding too bothered or suspicious.

“Gonna try to.” He tried to smile, “You probably should too.”

His father laughed, and waved him off. “Goodnight, Mikey.”

“Night, dad.”

He backed up to the stairs, beginning his ascent into the gnawing darkness of upstairs. It was reasonably lit down on the first floor from open curtains and his father’s study light, but upstairs was always darker. He hesitated, halfway up the stairs, because he heard his father’s door creak. He glanced back down at him.

“Hey, Mikey,” His father said, and he had to fight not to curse.

“Yeah, dad?” He turned fully to look at him, leaning heavy on the railing and swallowing.

His father didn’t actually say anything, just pointed to the floor in front of him. Michael’s heart stopped, but he dutifully descended the stairs again, stopping in front of his father. He swallowed, looking at him as he grabbed him by the chin and tilted his head up.

“You get into another fight today?” His father asked, sounding just this side of getting angry.

“No, not a fight,” Michael said, immediately, “Not… Not at school, at least.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, and Michael knew he was digging himself into a hole.

“A friend and I were screwing around,” He said, “Kinda just… Turned into a fistfight after a while.”

“And he strangled you?” His father asked, sounding unimpressed.

“I kinda kneed him where the sun don’t shine so I feel it was justified,” Michael tried for a nervous smile, “... Wasn’t a fair fight.”

His father hummed. Released his chin.

And smacked the  _ shit _ out of him. Michael yelped (managed not to moan like the freak he was), flinching back from the impact, but didn’t argue or retaliate. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, until his ears stopped ringing so he knew his sight was clear, then hesitantly looked back up at his dad.

“Don’t lie to me.” His father said, flatly.

“S-sorry, dad.”

“What really happened?”

“... It really wasn’t a fight,” Michael admitted, and flinched when his dad narrowed his eyes, “I― We were hanging out and he told me to shut up so I said ‘make me’ and uh. Well.” He motioned at his throat, “... I may have kept talking until he squeezed so hard I couldn’t?”

His father seemed to consider this, then nodded as if that definitely made more sense to him. And it was definitely close enough to the truth that Michael didn’t stumble over it too much. Given the truth was that his dealer had held him down by the throat while one of his party buddies fucked his throat… After they’d told him to shut up and he said ‘make me’... Well, that version was the safer version to tell his dad.

“... Can I go to bed now?” He asked, hesitantly.

“In a moment.” His father said, “... Maybe.”

He swallowed.

His father gripped his chin again, tilting his head up. He prodded a spot between his neck and shoulder with the forefinger of his free hand and Michael suppressed a keen. Squeezed his legs together in the least obvious way he could.

“Did this come from one of your friends too?”

Michael forgot that Jason had fucking bitten him while they were screwing. Bastard, he was going to― Ugh.

“Same friend.” He lied, but it wasn’t much of a lie considering Don (his dealer) and Jay were brothers.

“Why?” He prodded it again.

Michael squirmed, but tried not to pull way since that would get him smacked again and that would probably end up worse. “I, uh…”

But he couldn’t come up with anything convincing. Saying he told the guy to bite him would probably work, but the more he told his father about friends that hurt him when he goaded them to, the less his father was going to want him to be around them. Or maybe he would be happy to let them do his job for him.

“Michael.”

“... We were making out.” He admitted, because he remembered now that Jason had bitten him  _ before _ they’d really gotten into it.

His father’s face went very cold. “Was this before or after he strangled you?”

“After,” He admitted, feeling tears spring to his eyes and quickly blinking them away, “Please don’t be mad, he promised he wouldn’t do it again.”

“Has he done it before?”

Michael shook his head. “Just this one time this afternoon. He― He promised he wouldn’t do it again, dad.”

His father’s face didn’t soften at all, and he released his chin once more. He braced for the coming slap, but it…

Never came.

He peeked his eyes open, seeing his father just… Looking at him. He’d dropped his hand to his side. His face still wasn’t any softer, but there was a calculating sort of look in his cold eyes, now.

Michael had never liked that look. It was always worse than just the blank, cold one.

“Mikey,” His father said, and he sounded so much more calmer than he looked, “How often do you make out with this boy?”

“... Often.” Michael decided he ought to be honest, “He― He’s not my boyfriend, if that’s…”

His father hummed. “Just a friend with…  _ Benefits?” _

He swallowed hard. “... Y-yeah. Just until he gets…”

“Just until  _ he _ does?” His father looked more calculating now.

“... I didn’t think I was allowed to date?” Michael said, unsure, “S-so it’s until I’m old enough or he gets someone. We just― We just make out most of the time.”

“You thought I’d be more okay with you  _ screwing around?” _ His father’s eyes narrowed, “Like some kind of common whore?”

“I― I just thought you didn’t want me dating because I’d― I’d want to bring them to meet you.” Michael admitted, “I know you don’t like it when there are people here, so I…”

That seemed to give his father pause for a second. He seemed to consider that answer. And some of the anger  _ did _ drain out of him, but not much.

“I suppose I didn’t make myself clear enough,” He admitted, “And you were… Much younger at the time.”

Michael swallowed.

His dad grabbed his chin again. “Now tell me the truth.” He said, “Have you fucked that boy?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears to the best of his ability, and said, “Y-yes, dad.”

His father didn’t let go of his chin, and he didn’t get slapped.

“Were you with him? Is that why you’re up at this hour?”

“I― I was with him, yeah.” Michael admitted weakly, “But I o-only go see him so late when I can’t sleep anyway.”

His father huffed, but released him. Michael heard him take a step back.

“Very well.” He said, which wasn’t what Michael had expected him to say, “You’re sixteen, going on seventeen… I suppose there’s not much I can do about what’s already happened, and you seem to trust him.” Michael hesitantly looked at him, “But if I see another mark on you from him, he’s dead. Now get upstairs.”

“Y-yessir.” Michael, almost scrambled backwards to the stairs, “Th-thanks, dad.”

His father huffed again.

Michael made his way upstairs as not-clumsily as he could. Went to his bedroom and closed the door. Took a breath and tried to believe his luck. He’d gotten out of that encounter with only a  _ slap. _ Only one! No punches, no kicks in the ribs… Just a slap.

He almost sobbed from relief, flopping onto his bed face first.

Okay.

Now it was just a matter of getting comfortable, dosing himself with something to counteract the coke insomnia, and trying to at least appear to be asleep. He wondered what he could reasonably do, since taking a hit of his weed was a horrible idea in his room where his dad might smell it, and he didn’t really take a whole lot of others hit that could knock him out. He might just have to pray he had a bottle of melatonin supplements around here somewhere…

Oh, but Rae had given him some chocolate she got from her mom on their last trip to Colorado! That would work.

He dug it out of his pocket and ate one piece, since he wasn’t stupid, then hid it and the rest of the shit he kept in his hoodie pocket under his mattress like usual.

He got comfy, closed his eyes, and waited for it to kick in so he could go to sleep.

The next thing he knew, he was rocking his hips slightly, whining under his breath, and it was clearly some time later because his body was heavy and his movements clumsy. The high had kicked in while he was staring at the darkness behind his eyelids and he hadn’t even noticed until the usual weed-horniness snuck up on him.

He huffed weakly, shifting, and vaguely registered his father’s footsteps coming up the stairs. He tried to hold still, stop making noises, but… All he could really do was try to make it look like he was doing this while he was asleep, and then maybe his dad would move on.

His door popped open, as he’d expected, and he’d managed to restrain his movements just enough that his hips were only slightly twitching. The focus it took left him continuing to make soft noises since he just couldn’t stop himself.

He wasn’t expecting his father to  _ enter the room _ and come to his bed.

A hand landed on his shoulder, gently shaking him. He gasped, blinking his eyes open blearily.

“Mikey.” His dad said, softly.

“... Dad?”

With his eyes open, it was easier to force down his body’s reactions to the high―the noises cut off, as did his movements. He could at least pretend to have been only sleeping.

He stared up at him, eyelids heavy from actual tiredness and from the high. And his father migrated his hand to his cheek, stroking a thumb over the same skin he’d smacked earlier.

“Sorry, Mikey.” He sighed, and his thumb moved to stroke over his bottom lip instead.

Michael recognized the motion, if only vaguely, as one he should probably fight back against.

“I guess I got jealous,” His father sighed again, pulling his lip down with that same thumb, “To think that somebody else has been touching you…”

“... Dad?”

His father’s eyes snapped to his. He smiled. “I know you weren’t telling me the whole truth, Mikey,” He said, sing-songy, and his thumb slipped up over his lip, over his teeth. “Want to try again?”

Michael felt his breathing pick up, and not entirely in an unpleasant way which would have been disgusting to think about if he wasn’t so high and so scared of what his dad might do to him. His father’s thumb rested on his tongue, rubbing over the muscle slowly.

“I can tell you’re high, Mikey.” His father said, gripping his chin a little less gently and pressing down with his thumb, “You little lying monster.”

Michael couldn’t help whimpering softly, shifting.

“Did he get you high, honey? Give you drugs for letting him fuck you?” He withdrew his thumb.

Tongue loosened by the drugs in a way they hadn’t been earlier, he murmured, “Was already high… ‘M more fun to be around when I’m high.”

His father crooned softly, “And now you’re high again.” He said, “More high than you were earlier, at least. Did you come up here and do drugs immediately after I was done with you?”

“Jus’ somethin’ to help me sleep,” He struggled to keep his eyes open, “‘S’all.”

“You need something else to help you sleep, honey?” His father asked, hand trailing from his chin to his neck, pressing his fingers into the bitemark he’d touched earlier almost curiously. And when poor, high Michael didn’t manage not to moan this time, he grinned, “Aw… Bet you do.”

He pressed his fingers against the bite again, grin only widening when Michael moaned again, twisting a bit there on the bed.

“Let me take care of you.”

Michael’s poor drug-addled brain, unable to understand at the moment why that was a bad thing and he should probably say no, didn’t provide any warnings that made him want to say no. He was horny, half-sure he was dreaming anyway, and nothing tuckered a weed-high him out like a good orgasm. So he let his dad tilt his chin up, let him kiss him. Let him slide his tongue into his mouth.

“Oh, you’re just a submissive little whore, huh?” His father asked after he pulled back. When Michael smiled back at him, unoffended by what was pretty standard talk when he was high, his father crooned again, “You’ll just take anything I give you, won’t you?”

“Whatcha gonna give me?” He asked, maybe too cocky but unable to reason out why that would be a bad thing.

But his father just laughed, seeming genuinely amused. “Precious little thing.” He said, then leaned back in and kissed him again.

Michael made a contented noise in the back of his throat, kissing back and softly moaning when his father began to more or less tongue-fuck his mouth. He shifted there on the bed, rubbing his thighs together in hopes of some friction. The very next moment, he felt his cover being thrown off of him and a hand brushing over the outline of his cock in his sweatpants. His legs fell open immediately, body rolling just slightly so that he was on his back.

His father practically growled into his mouth, and he whined back, trying to follow when the man pulled away from him. His father only responded by sliding two of his fingers into his mouth with a snort as he gripped the waistband of his sweats and yanked them down. Michael lifted his hips on instinct to help, sucking and licking at the fingers in his mouth, watching his father give his lower half an appreciative looking-at. He moaned softly when he grabbed his cock, eyes almost fluttering shut.

With one teasing rub at his slit he was moaning something that was meant to be a word. His father withdrew his fingers, face a little hard again.

“What was that?” He asked, rubbing at his slit again with narrowed eyes.

“Daddy…” Michael sighed, arching his hips up a little, because that had been what the word was meant to be.

His father froze, then slowly grinned. “Good boy.”

His father toyed with his cock until he was gasping and whining, desperate for something  _ real _ and not just teasing, paying entirely too much attention to the head but also not paying  _ enough _ attention to it. Finally, he unbuckled his belt and Michael panted, waiting as his dad dropped his pants around his thighs and released his cock.

Now, had Michael been a little more sober he’d have been bothered by this development, and everything that came before it. But as it was, all his brain could latch onto was the knowledge that his dad was  _ big. _ Bigger than Jay, for sure, and probably bigger than Don too.

He whined, wanting, and his father grinned, shifting closer so he was within reach.

“You want it, Mikey?” He asked, entirely too glad of the clear fact that the answer was yes.

“Please, daddy,” Michael said, by way of answer.

And his father grinned.

And then his father was pushing that thick, long cock into his mouth. Michael moaned, looking up at his dad and watching the way his eyebrows started to lift in surprise when his cock slid further and further in without Michael so much as hitching a breath. When he was buried to the hilt he sighed out a noise, reaching out to pet Michael’s hair.

“Oh, sweetie,” He said, “You really are a little whore, huh?”

Michael responded by swallowing around him, sucking at the base that was stretching his lips open and tonguing at the underside. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He knew what to do.

His father moaned, grabbing a handful of his hair and making him moan in return. And then his father slowly rocked his hips back and thrust smoothly back to where he’d been. And he fucked his mouth for a few minutes, eyes lidded and soft sounds leaving him as he pleasured himself with his son’s mouth and Michael didn’t so much as think about not playing along.

“How many other people did this to you tonight, Mikey?” His father asked when he eventually slid out, wiping some drool from the side of his mouth, “How often do you  _ really _ go out to get high?”

“Most of my buddies had a turn,” He admitted, leaning into the hand on his face, “Usually goes like that. S’almost every night.”

His father made a noise at that, letting go of his face and getting onto the bed between his legs, “You whore yourself out and do drugs  _ every night?” _ His father asked, grabbing his thighs, “You’re disgusting, Mikey. Wretched little fucking  _ whore.” _

“I jus’ get so  _ lonely _ daddy,” He replied in a soft whine, letting him move his legs as he saw fit and delighting in the shudder that went through him, “And they’re so nice to me…”

It got something like a sympathetic look from his father, who lifted him up by his thighs. “Poor thing.” He crooned, only a little sarcastically, “Bet you’re still nice and slick and open then, huh?”

“You could find out,” He suggested, wiggling his hips a little.

That got a grin, and then his father was dipping his head down and―  _ oh. _ He licked over his hole, each lap of his tongue getting closer and closer to dipping the muscle inside of him completely. He moaned, struggling not to close his thighs. And his daddy pressed his tongue in after a moment, pressing deep and twisting it and curling it. All he could do was moan.

“D-daddy,” He sighed, fingers twisting in the sheets, “Ah, daddy, you’re so good at that…”

His daddy chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine. He withdrew his tongue, licking his way up to his son’s balls and laving his tongue over them, making him twitch. He sucked one into his mouth, rolling it over his tongue a moment, then let it fall free and instead licked a stripe up the underside of his weeping cock. Michael whined, shaking a little in his grasp.

His daddy set him down, moving over him a bit, his thick cock landing hard and heavy on Michael’s belly as he leaned down to kiss him again. He moaned at the taste of the prior evidence of his promiscuity, and at his daddy once more beginning to tongue-fuck his mouth.

One curious hand moved to touch his daddy’s cock where it lay on his belly, fingers skating up the length and dipping into the pre leaking out onto his belly. He rubbed his daddy’s cockhead with a low whine, hearing his daddy groan into his mouth, and used the slick on his hand to lightly grip that fat length and begin to stroke it. His daddy was  _ so big. _ He wanted him inside.

He was going to fill him up so good.

His daddy pulled back after taking a moment to suck on his tongue, kissing down to his neck and then laving his tongue over the bitemark he’d been messing with earlier and the hand-shaped bruises from Don choking him. He moaned softly, continuing to stroke his daddy’s cock against his belly, imagining how good it was going to feel inside of him. He could almost feel it―could almost feel the way it would spread him open and leave him gasping for breath.

“Daddy, you’re so big…” He softly moaned, stroking him a little faster, “I’ve never had somebody so big before…”

And then his daddy was pulling away, making him whine, but he just shushed him.

“Roll over. On your hands and knees.”

He obeyed and received a soft smack on his ass in reward.

“How many of your buddies is ‘most of them’, Mikey?”

“Five,” He answered, swaying his hips a little, “Don just held me down for the others this time ‘n a couple of the guys didn’t show up.”

“God, you are an  _ insatiable _ little whore.” His daddy spat, smacking his ass again and making him moan. “Drugs do good things to you, Mikey. You’re  _ awfully _ good and useful like this.”

He wiggled his hips again, happy, and it was only his daddy’s hands firmly grabbing his hips that made him stop.

And then his daddy was pressing into him, spreading him open around his big cock, and Michael moaned, long and low. As soon as his daddy had bottomed out, he began to fuck him hard and fast, giving him no time at all to adjust. He moaned loudly, shifting back to meet each thrust, only moaning louder when his daddy grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. With every thrust he felt the button and fly of his daddy’s pants smack into his thighs.

His daddy speared him open with his cock over and over and over again, until he was cumming and had to let his upper half drop onto the bed because his daddy still wasn’t done and his arms couldn’t hold him up anymore.

And then finally, when he was unable to do much more than gasp and whine and sob with each hard thrust, his daddy began to twitch inside of him. He weakly wiggled his hips, eager for his daddy to cum in him. His daddy chuckled, thrusting into him a couple more times before slowly pulling out.

He felt the final pump as he pulled out, felt some of the cum leak out and felt some spurt onto him rather than into him. He sighed happily, letting himself collapse the rest of the way onto the bed despite the wet spot beneath him.

His daddy chuckled again.

He felt him pat his head, heard him lift his pants back around his hips and resecure his belt.

“Sleep well, Mikey.”

He hummed contentedly, and he fell asleep almost as soon as his father had pulled the covers back up over him.

* * *

He woke to his alarm at seven groggy and annoyed, the post-coke-high headache having set in something fierce while he was asleep. But he at least had the knowledge it was Saturday, and that was good for something. His father would likely be gone or asleep all day, and the same tonight.

He’d had a pretty unsettling dream, though, about―

He stopped, having started to roll over, eyes going wide.

He was leaking. A lot.

_ That hadn’t been a dream. _

He sat bolt upright, horrified and starting to feel a little sick, pressing his hand to his stomach and looking around the room. There was a note on his bedside table.

Shaking, he reached out and picked it up, unfolding it.

_ ‘Hey Mikey! Tell your buddies tonight that I said hi. I expect you to come to my study when you get home. Love, dad’ _

… That wasn’t a dream.

He leaned over the edge of the bed and gagged into his trash can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the existence of this can be neatly summed up as "sometimes the author projects too hard on a character and they need to get the Nasty Shit out of their head in a safe way, so they do Bad Things to that character"
> 
> i do not and never will condone real life rape, pedophilia/the 'into teenagers' equivalent, or incestuous relationships especially of the parent/child variety. it's all fucked up.
> 
> this is just me getting nasty shit out of my head and i refuse to defend myself further because it's either i write the Disgusting Thoughts or i have to let them rattle around in my head, and i choose writing them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An agreement is made.
> 
> Realizations are had.

“I don’t want to go home.” He groaned, laying his head back. He hadn’t gotten high yet tonight, and he hadn’t told anyone what was wrong, but…

“C’mon, Mikey.” Don rolled his eyes, “Just take a hit, get dicked a little, and go home. How bad can it be?”

“Yeah, man, you said he wasn’t even that mad last night.”

He’d told them part of the truth, because he was a better liar sober. He’d been over here all day, so everybody had more or less gotten the story that he’d run into his father last night and his father had been surprisingly chill with finding out he was on drugs and screwing around with at least one of his friends. They’d also heard about part of the note―just the bit about telling them he’d said hello.

“I know, man, but he wanted me to come to his study when I get home tonight. I feel like he’s gonna fuckin’ kill me.” He groaned.

“Well then you  _ really _ need to take a hit and get fucked.” Jay snorted, “You really wanna die sober and completely miserable?”

Michael puffed out a breath, quirking his brows. It was a good point. “Fine, fine, somebody hit me with something  _ hard, _ though.”

“I got you,” Don said, sliding him a bag of coke, then a bottle of vodka, “Reset your hard drive, Mikey, you can pay me back if you live.”

Michael snorted.

Then he took a swig out of the vodka bottle and the rest of the night was kind of a blur. He held off on the coke until it was almost time for him to head home, at about 1:30 instead of any later, again citing that his father was probably waiting up for him so he needed to head out sooner than usual. He did a couple lines about a minute before he walked out the door for the night.

It was starting to take effect by the time he got home.

He stumbled a little as he walked in, through the back door as usual.

He toed his shoes off. Leaned heavy on the wall to get them off and then stumbled (partially because he was still drunk, partially because he was high as a giraffe’s ass) to his father’s study. He stalled in the doorway, seeing his father in much the same position he’d been in yesterday.

He swallowed, gently knocking on the doorframe, “... Dad?”

His father lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at him. Smiled. “Oh, there you are, Mikey. Wasn’t sure when to expect you back.”

“... Usually later on Sat… Sunday mornings.” Michael admitted, shifting a little as his father approached the door, “... A lot later. The guys said hi.”

“Your nose looks like it’s bleeding,” His father pointed out, pulling the door open wider and looking down at him.

Michael sniffed, having forgotten that was an issue. “Oh. Yeah, hang on.” He took a stumbling step back, “I should― I should probably clean that up.”

His father tilted his head, watching him almost trip just turning around and stepping into the bathroom on the other side of the hall. He sniffed again, wiping the blood away with some toilet paper and making sure he wasn’t still bleeding. God, this was the exact reason he didn’t usually do drugs right before coming home.

He caught his reflection in the shadowed mirror, saw blue eyes that were almost completely black from how dilated his pupils were, and bitten lips and dark circles. He was a mess.

This was probably where normal people realized they had a problem and should stop doing drugs.

But Michael just blinked, sighed, and pushed away from the sink, stumbling back across the hall to his father and waiting, looking up at him.

“Fight?” His father asked, quirking a brow.

Michael shook his head.

“Then what?”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, giving up on coming up with a less shitty answer when his father raised an unimpressed brow and sighing, “... Cocaine, dad. I did cocaine.”

His father frowned, but nodded. “I figured you were high right now. I take it you did your usual routine tonight?” He asked, stepping back from the door and motioning to indicate Michael should enter the study.

He hadn’t been in this room in years, but he stepped in with all the grace he could manage, trying not to gulp when his father closed the door behind him. “I, uh… Kind of? I… Definitely spent more of it sober and with all my clothes on than usual.”

“But you whored yourself out?”

“Yeah…”

“Oh, Mikey, what am I going to do with you?” His father sighed, but he didn’t seem to actually be angry at all, or even disappointed that Michael hadn’t, like, stopped screwing around just because of what had happened last night. “You’re awful.”

“You’re not the first one to tell me that, and I don’t think you’ll be the last.” Michael half-laughed.

It got his father to laugh as well.

He walked over to the chair at his desk, sitting down. Just sat there a moment, watching Michael and looking him up and down before lifting one hand to beckon him over. And Michael approached, brain getting a little hazier as the high took better hold of him. He knew it wouldn’t go much further than this, but if he was lucky this would be enough to block out most of this encounter.

“Knees.” His father said, in that no-nonsense sort of way.

So he dropped to them there in front of his father. Looked up at him. Tried not to move or flinch when his dad reached out to cup his chin. Just knelt there and let his father look at him.

“You wouldn’t stop even if I told you to, would you?” His father finally asked, stroking his thumb over his cheek.

“... Probably not,” Michael admitted, voice cracking a bit because outright telling his father he would disobey him was… Not a great idea. But lying to him would just be worse.

His father hummed in reply to the admission, squinting a little.

There was a long silence, during which his father just kind of stared at him, stroking his cheeks and chin. Michael was almost too afraid to breathe.

“How about this,” His father finally said, tightening his grip just a bit, “I won’t tell you to stop, and I won’t punish you for having gone behind my back this long.” Michael blinked up at him at that, sure it was too good to be true, “But,” Oh, there it was, “You have to do something for me every time you go whore yourself out.”

Michael swallowed, hard. “... Like what?”

His father smirked, just a little. “Oh, I think you know.”

He did.

He swallowed again, fists clenching atop his thighs, struggling not to tremble. He didn’t… He wasn’t totally on board with this idea. But he knew it was going to happen, anyway, and this was probably the best outcome for his dad finding out he was on drugs and whoring himself out, so… Ugh. It wasn’t like he couldn’t get so high he wouldn’t remember anything. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just sort of push the memories he did have away―he was good at that.

And sure, he could probably pretend to quit and continue doing his thing anyway, but… Well. His dad would be pissed if he found out for  _ sure. _

And he could  _ actually quit, _ but then where would he be?

Sober, bored, and struggling to deal with his problems,  _ that _ was where.

“Okay,” He finally agreed, watching his father’s progressively narrowing eyes widen a little, “... That sounds fair.”

His father smiled, “Good. Now, I think you have a favor to be repaying?”

Michael nodded, swallowing again and leaning forward a little, laying his head on his father’s thigh as he took a breath. The worst part was that his father was already hard. He gave an obvious twitch when Michael laid his head down and…

Hh.

Okay.

He nuzzled into his father’s thigh, slightly shaking hands moving to undo his father’s belt, then his pants. He had to close his eyes to give himself the necessary courage to pull his father’s hard cock out of his pants. His cheeks were burning. He wasn’t sure if he was mortified by doing this at all, or if he was embarrassed because this guy was so much older than he was. More experienced.

It was a fine line when he was this high.

He peeked his eyes far enough open to see his father’s cock, slowly stroking the organ until he could make himself move to lick a stripe up the underside of it. His father groaned softly when he took the head into his mouth and sucked, hand tangling in his hair and softly tugging.

“Good boy, Mikey,” He mumbled, and Michael resigned himself to his fate.

He sucked gently, leaning forward, and took his father halfway to the base with slow bobs of his head. Sitting there for a moment, he laved his tongue over the heated flesh and whined softly. Pulled back far enough to tongue the slit and took a breath before dropping all the way to the base of his father’s cock. Moaned quietly at the feeling of it in his throat and shifted when that made his father tighten his grip on his hair.

“Sure know how to use that dirty little mouth, huh?”

He peeked his eyes open, looking up at his daddy through his lashes as he swallowed around his cock. His daddy was watching him attentively, and he felt his cheeks burn more, though the flush had been starting to fade at last just a moment ago. A gentle tug on his hair, and Michael was drawing back and then dipping back down, keeping his eyes on his daddy’s as he did so. His daddy smiled, slightly.

“Must have been  _ real _ lonely for a long time if you’re this good at taking a dick in your throat.” His daddy said, tugging his hair again, “My slutty little baby boy…”

He hummed, bobbing his head and tonguing over the underside of his daddy’s dick.

He fell into a rhythm, probably a somewhat frustrating one for his daddy given how slowly he went about it. Not hesitating, just…  _ Savoring. _

But then his daddy was tugging him up off of his cock by his hair, surprisingly gently, and the next thing he knew he was bent over his daddy’s desk with his pants around his thighs and his daddy, lubed with nothing but his spit, was pressing inside of him. He relaxed against the desk, angling his hips a little and sighing happily when his daddy slid into him. The extra stretch from how much thicker his daddy was was minimal―a minor sting that easily turned into more pleasure when he was like this.

“Now, baby,” His daddy mumbled, grabbing his arms and pulling them behind his back from where they’d previously laid, “All you gotta do is lay here and take it like a good little bitch. Can you do that, Mikey?” He rolled his hips once, the motion rocking Michael a bit, “Can you be good and let daddy fuck your brains out?”

“Yes, daddy,” Michael said, easily, “I can do that for you.”

“Good boy.”

And then his daddy was pulling his arms a little tighter, gripping them a little more forcefully, and faintly he registered that this meant he wasn’t just getting dicked down. His daddy really was going to fuck his brains out―he was going to hold him still and fuck into him like he wasn’t even a person. That was  _ always _ what this hold meant with the people who fucked him.

His daddy proved him right by immediately setting a punishing pace without releasing his arms. He held them at an angle that had Michael arching his back a little, head and shoulders lifting up off the desk. Gasps and moans fell out of his open lips as he was used by his daddy and he didn’t even think of wanting to argue. Wanting anything else but this.

“Oh, daddy,” He moaned, voice somewhat scratchy, “Feels so good. You’re so  _ big…” _

“Yeah?” His daddy grunted, “You like getting your greedy hole used and filled up with my cock? You like just being used like you’re nothing but a hole to fuck?”

“Y-yes,” He peeked his eyes open, caught his reflection in the window and, God, the curtains were open. If their neighbors happened to wake up and look out their windows on this side of the house they’d  _ see. _ They’d see Michael being pounded from behind over his daddy’s desk. He whined a little at the thought of being watched, especially now. He met his own eyes in the reflection, then glanced up to see his daddy slamming into him. “D-daddy,” He began, but couldn’t finish the thought out loud.

“What is it, baby?” His daddy asked, not slowing down or stopping.

“Wh-what if somebody sees?” He managed to ask, watching the vague shift in his daddy’s expression while he continued to take him.

“Then they’ll know you’re a dirty little slut,” His daddy answered, easily, “They’ll just see your pretty little face as you take my cock like the filthy whore you are.”

He moaned, quietly, clenching around his daddy.

His mind provided the mental image of Henry watching, or one of his drug buddies. Of Henry or whoever else just sitting there and watching him fall apart on his daddy’s cock and take it like it wasn’t even an issue. Take it easy as breathing.

His mind latched rather fiercely onto it being Henry, imagining Henry walking in unaware and staying to watch until his daddy noticed. And Michael was such a little dirty slut that his daddy would probably offer him to Henry, let the closest thing he had to an uncle fuck him senseless as well. And Michael would like it, especially since he was unreasonably pleased, suddenly, that his daddy found him attractive enough to fuck. That an  _ adult _ thought he was pretty enough.

Having Henry think it too?

He moaned softly just at the image, wiggling his hips a little.

“Like that?” His daddy growled softly, “Like the idea of someone watching while I use you?”

“Yes, daddy,” He answered, canting his hips back to meet a few of his daddy’s thrusts and getting much harder thrusts that made him see stars in exchange for the effort.

“Bet you’d just  _ love _ to have someone in here while I take you, listening to the pretty sounds you make for me. Watching your greedy hole swallow my cock. Pretty little  _ slut _ like you could make some real money with this if we recorded it.”

He whined at that, the idea of being recorded and having countless other people see it because his daddy would upload it to the internet having his cock twitching as he clenched around his daddy again.

“Maybe next time,” His daddy said, like he was genuinely considering the idea.

Michael moaned, eyes meeting his own in the reflection on the window again. Every thrust rocked him forward a little, made him see stars, made his mouth water. Seeing his own blushing face as he moaned and took his daddy’s cock had him whimpering and clenching around him. He looked so ruined. So fucked out.

“Pretty little thing,” His daddy mumbled, “Precious little whore of mine. Shame you don’t have a cunt―bet you’d be so slick around me. You’d be  _ dripping, _ wouldn’t you baby? So eager to take my cock before you go to bed, to have me fill your precious pussy up with my seed―not that there’s much difference right now, huh? You’d beg for it if I asked you to, wouldn’t you?”

Michael could only moan, feeling the knot in his belly tightening a bit.

“Shift your hips up, baby boy.” His daddy said, “Let daddy make you cum.”

So he did, and somehow his daddy had known exactly what angle to get his hips at so he could ram into his prostate because now he was hitting it dead on. Michael gasped out weak moans, knot tightening further as he clenched down a little. He was so close, all of a sudden.

“Daddy,” He whined.

“Gonna fill you up real nice, baby,” His daddy cooed, suddenly taking a very gentle tone, “Okay? Gonna make you feel so good.”

“P-please, daddy,” He moaned, because being filled up sounded really good right about then. “I want it― I want you to cum in me, daddy, please.”

It got a groan from his daddy, and it took only a few more particularly hard thrusts for Michael to cum with a muffled shout. His daddy kept going, still hard and fast and  _ deep, _ and it was a lot but Michael was used to the overstimulation so he just gasped and wiggled his hips through it until he was hard again. His daddy slowed to a stop, suddenly, dropping his arms, and Michael looked up at his reflection with some worry. Why had he stopped?

But then he was grabbing Michael’s hips and starting up again, yanking him back into his thrusts with enough force to have his vision swimming.

The sudden lack of any rhythm let him know his daddy was getting close, as did the way he began to twitch inside of him.

“Cum in me,” Michael managed to whine, weakly, “Please, daddy? I wanna be full of you,  _ please… _ Cum in me, cum in me―”

His daddy almost growled, thrusting a few more times before he groaned and began to spill into him, cock pulsing in Michael’s hole. He hitched his hips and Michael twitched his back to meet the abortive thrusts, and Michael had been getting so close again but that was okay. Wouldn’t be the first time he was denied an orgasm and it wouldn’t be the last, either.

His daddy stayed inside him for a long moment, hands still pinning his hips against the desk and his hips pressed firm to Michael’s ass. And then, slowly, he started to withdraw.

Michael only sighed softly, clenching as his daddy pulled out in an attempt to keep from spilling anything out. He wanted to be full.

Once his daddy had pulled out he gripped his cheeks and pulled them open, letting out a low chuckle as he did.

“Look at you, Mikey,” He purred, “Already hard and leaking again. Drugs really do do good things to you, baby. You’re so  _ precious.” _ He laid a sharp smack on one of Michael’s asscheeks and Michael barely even flinched away from the sting, “Oh, I could just fuck you all night until the sun comes up and I bet you’d enjoy every second of it.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, probably too easily.

But his daddy just chuckled, smacking his ass again. And then he was pressing a finger into him and bending to bite into his asscheek. He fucked him with his fingers for a long moment, adding three more by the time he was done and Michael was whining and wiggling his hips. He could have cum again from that all by itself, but his daddy seemed to know that and so he stopped before he got too caught up in it.

That didn’t stop him from biting him on the ass a few more times, though.

“You know what,” His daddy said, from behind him, “I think this counts as next time, don’t you?”

“... Yeah?” Admittedly, Michael didn’t quite remember why that was a question that needed to be asked.

High brain did that to him―made him forget things like that. He’d remember once he was sober, he was sure, but for now the thought was lost. It had, after all, been a few minutes too long ago.

His daddy chuckled, and there was some rustling for a moment before his daddy was pressing back up against his waiting hole. Whatever the ‘next time’ thing was about, Michael promptly stopped worrying or trying to remember. All he cared about was getting his brain fucked out, even if he still had enough presence of mind to realize who this was and why he shouldn’t be doing it. In the end it wasn’t going to matter.

And the second round didn’t last all that much longer than the first one had, was barely even any different except that there was less talking and more of Michael just moaning and arching into his daddy’s thrusts. And his daddy still called him a whore, or a slut, or whatever else, and since Michael’s friends had been calling him all those sorts of things since they started screwing around it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Finally, whining out a high pitched noise, he was again held down while his daddy came in him. He hadn’t managed to cum again yet for some reason… But all it took was his daddy grinding into him somewhat more roughly before he gasped and came. He rocked against his daddy’s final few abortive thrusts weakly, going still only when his daddy squeezed his hip warningly.

“Such an insatiable little whore. I wonder if it’s the drugs…” His daddy hummed, “Or maybe you’re just a slut.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Michael admitted because he saw no reason not to, “Don’t really do anything sober.”

His daddy hummed again, slowly pulling out.

Finally, he gave him a light smack on the ass, “Alright, my pretty little slut. Get to bed.”

Michael managed to refrain from admitting that he was probably not going to be sleeping at all and instead picked himself up off the desk and pulled his pants up. Was stopped, if only briefly as he started to leave, so that his daddy could kiss him and shove his tongue down his throat and make him whine. And then he was on his way, half-stumbling upstairs and collapsing onto his bed.

After a moment, maybe a long one, maybe a short one, of laying there his phone chimed.

He blinked, pulling it out of his hoodie pocket to check the notification.

A text from his da― from his father.

Curious, he opened it.

A video. And the thumbnail showed his daddy’s cock and his abused hole.

Oh.

He’d recorded it, probably with his phone.

Oh.

Ha, okay.

That was going to suck to see when he got sober, probably.

Oh well.

* * *

Remembering everything after sobering up, predictably, wasn’t a pleasant experience.

It was still dark out by the time he started coming down, but it wouldn’t be dark for much longer, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught of actual cohesive thought and memory. He never minded this part  _ before, _ but when the only memories waiting for him that he didn’t already have a full grasp of were of his father fucking his brains out…

He hated knowing he wasn’t as disgusted as he probably should be.

He hated, even more, that the first thing he wanted to do after he peeked his eyes open was open the video. But, regardless, stomach in his throat and heart pounding, he did so.

And, regardless of literally anything else, he ended up rubbing one out while watching it. His cheeks burned with shame, sensible brain screaming at him for doing that  _ sober, _ but it had happened and he… Wasn’t totally averse to it. Kind of disgusted with himself? Sure.

… But, regrettably, he knew himself.

And he knew he was probably going to end up watching it again.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael adjusted to coming home from Don’s place and getting one or two rounds out of his father before bed over the next week or so. He was still sort of mortified and disgusted, but as long as he was high he usually didn’t mind too much. And he was high every time, made  _ sure _ of it, so…

No problem.

And as long as he got to get high and stay out of his head…

But, inevitably, school started back up for the Fall after the first week, and Michael had to dial it back a little. His father was suddenly busier, too, and for the first three days of the new school year they didn’t even see each other… Which Michael was  _ not _ complaining about. It was a lot closer to his regular routine that way.

But he came home the fourth day of the semester, a Friday, and found his father in the kitchen. He seemed annoyed, and Michael rued the days where he pretty much knew for sure what that would mean for him. He swallowed, stepping into the kitchen carefully.

“... Dad?” He asked, quietly, because the man hadn’t even actually looked at him yet.

The man turned his annoyed gaze on him, squinting, and then smiled. “Oh, Mikey. There you are. I was wondering…” He trailed, “Nevermind. You’d be leaving for that later, wouldn’t you?”

“... I don’t usually head that way until about eight,” He admitted, and the way his father had smiled almost  _ immediately _ upon seeing him wasn’t promising good things.

His father hummed, squinting again, “Have you been screwing around the last few days?”

“Not much,” He was able to say, honestly, because the semester had just started and all of them dialled it back during the school year so they wouldn’t get caught, “... We all try not to do much on school nights.”

“How much is ‘not much’?” His father asked, anyway.

“I’ve been high?” Michael said, “And I made out with one of my friends a little, but that was all.”

“And tonight would be a night where you did… More than that?”

“... Yeah.”

His father hummed again.

Michael shifted uncomfortably, searching for a way out of this situation but knowing he wouldn’t really find one. There was little chance that his father  _ wouldn’t _ want him to go ahead and pay for tonight’s activities right now, and Michael wasn’t sure if he was really up for the task. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t do this sort of thing when he was sober―it was hard for Don or Jay to get him to  _ kiss _ them before a high kicked in, let alone touch their dicks or let them touch his. And it wasn’t even because he didn’t  _ like _ doing it sober, it was just… Being high put him in the right mood for it.

“C’mere, Mikey,” His father finally said, and Michael winced internally.

Of course.

He hated being right.

But he went to his father anyway.

Went, and was pulled into a kiss that he struggled to return. His father did not seem particularly concerned with the trouble he was having, though―he just kept kissing him. Just kept shoving his tongue down his throat.

When his father pulled back, Michael felt disgusting.

He swallowed and looked up at him, knowing this was going to happen whether he wanted it to or not and he may as well just go along with it. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t disgusted. It was one thing to let it happen, and another to actually enjoy it.

His father shifted back, sitting down in one of the chairs at the table, and smiled at him again. Michael did not have it in him to smile back.

“Come sit in my lap, Mikey.”

He obliged.

His father settled his hands on his hips, looking up at him. Michael tried to keep eye contact, but still ended up looking away, staring at the bland white fridge and finding himself checking out already. He didn’t usually start dissociating this quickly, but… Eh, he wasn’t surprised. He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to be in this situation right now.

“Mikey,” His father said, surprisingly patient.

He turned his gaze back to him with one of his father’s fingers guiding his chin.

“Really don’t do this often sober, do you?” He asked, almost sympathetic, “You look nervous.”

“... I’ve  _ never _ done this sober.” He admitted, trying not to sound angry or bitter about it and wincing when it came out sounding a lot like both, “I’m not… It’s not usually on my mind until after I’m high.”

His father hummed. Pulled him down into a kiss.

And Michael sighed in resignation and kissed back.

Feeling his father start to twitch and get hard made his stomach roll, but he continued. It wasn’t like he had a choice, right? He wasn’t allowed to say no. He had to pay his dad back for going to get high and fuck about. He wasn’t getting out of that.

But, at least for now, all that happened was kissing. A couple of bites on his lips, yeah, but otherwise both his mouth and his father’s were occupied with his father shoving his tongue down his throat. And, for now, with his eyes closed, he could almost pretend it was someone else and that he was just waiting on his high to kick in.

Part of the reason, he’d admit, that he didn’t like doing this sober was…

Well.

When he was high, it didn’t mean anything to kiss and fuck. He was horny and that was all there was to it.

… Sober, it felt different.

Foolishly, sober him hoped that one day he’d do this with someone who mattered very much to him instead of just screwing his friends and now his father as well while he was stoned out of his mind.

Like Chris’ little brother Damien, for instance―Michael liked him a lot. He was only a few months younger than him, and only hung out  _ sometimes _ and didn’t do as many drugs as the rest of them. And Michael sort of hoped that, one day, if he got a chance to quit or at least cut back on the drugs without it putting him back into a really shitty mental state where he just wanted to kill himself or someone else, maybe he and Damien could…

But no, of course not.

It wouldn’t have happened before and it definitely wasn’t going to happen now.

He blinked his eyes open after his father pulled back this time, watching him with as little feeling as he could muster. He felt like, if he let himself just  _ feel _ right now, he would end up getting the shit kicked out of him for his ‘disrespect’ or something.

“Tell you what, Mikey,” His dad said, watching his face, “You just sit and look pretty and I’ll cum on your cute face and then you can go do your thing. Sound good?”

He… Wasn’t making him participate actively?

Whatever the reason for that was, Michael was thankful.

“... Yeah, that sounds good,” He said, carefully.

“Knees in front of me, then.” His father said, nudging him.

Michael moved to oblige, and his father unbuttoned his pants, pulling his cock out. And Michael watched, still feeling sort of gross but not near as gross as he probably should at the sight and the context.

His father gave himself a couple of slow tugs before he settled into a comfortable position and began to stroke himself for real. Michael sat and tried not to watch, but―

“Eyes on me, baby boy.”

―he didn’t get much of a choice.

So he kept his eyes on his father while he jerked his cock, gaze shifting occasionally between the hard cock bobbing in front of him and his father’s face. His father was smiling, and it was not a smile that promised good things, but it was better than him being angry. And Michael felt himself twitch in his pants while he was watching and he wanted to smack himself for the reaction, justifying to himself that he’d get a little excited watching pretty much anyone jerk off right in front of his face.

And, finally, his father grunted and Michael barely had enough time to squeeze his eyes shut before he felt his father spurting onto his face.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation by any means, but the situation soured it for him a little.

“Pretty thing,” His father praised softly, “Look at me, baby.”

So Michael peeked his eyes open and looked up at his father and got a smile from him before his father snapped a picture of him with his phone.

“Think I’ve got a new phone background with that one,” He said, grinning.

Michael sort of wanted to gag.

He refrained, if only barely.

“See if you can get me a video tonight, hm?” His father was putting himself away, now, “I’d like to see how much of a slut you are when you’ve got your buddies using you.”

“... I’ll try to remember,” Michael said, and he hated knowing he wasn’t lying more than he’d hated anything so far, “Can I clean my face off now?”

His father waved a hand, and he got up to go wash his face.

* * *

“Weird request,” Michael panted between Jay kissing him senseless and Don working him open and Chris teasing his cock. None of them stopped, but he knew they (and the others) were listening, “Can somebody― Can somebody record this? Don’t care how much of it, just…”

“I’ve got your phone,” Rae chimed, “I’ll do it.”

“Hella.”

And, of course, he pretty much forgot about that within the next ten minutes―caught up in the high, and the feeling of Don inside of him and Chris’ mouth around his cock and Jay’s tongue in his throat. And then Lucy was pushing Chris out of the way to use  _ their _ talented mouth on him and Chris just laughed and held their hair out of the way for them.

Basically, over the course of the night he got his shit wrecked by his friends time and time again, and Rae was the only one who ended up staying out of it for any extended length of time, but even she ended up sitting on his face to have him use his tongue to open her up for Jay at some point.

Eventually they all sort of finished up and Michael pulled his clothes on so he could start gearing up to head home, unsure if his father would be waiting up for him but not willing to chance staying out any later just in case.

It was only when he realized his camera app was open on his phone after arriving home that he remembered that Rae had said she’d record some of that. His face flushed and he made sure the sound on his phone was turned off before opening the most recent video to see which part she’d recorded.

Oh.

The part where Lucy was riding him while Chris fucked him senseless and Don held him down by his throat so Jay could use his mouth like a fleshlight.

Thankfully, Rae had managed to record it at an angle where you could see all the action, but only Michael’s face (not Jay’s, Don’s, Lucy’s, or Chris’) was visible and identifiable. He skipped ahead to be sure that was the case for the whole video and found that she’d recorded from that point almost all the way up until the point she’d sat on his face. It ended on a quick couple of zoom-ins on his leaking hole and still-hard dick, then his blissful and fucked out (but still capable of a few more rounds), blushing face, and the very last frame was of her settling in over his face.

Yeah, his father was going to like this one.

He’d wanted to see him being a slut.

And, lo and behold, the light in his study was on.

Michael was still high, blessedly, but he knew he wouldn’t be for terribly much longer―another hour at best. He should get this out of the way.

He was stepping out of his shoes when his dad came around the stairs and blinked in surprise at him.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” He said, smiling, “Welcome back, Mikey. Did you have fun?”

Michael smiled back, “Yeah…”

“Good. C’mere,”

Michael obeyed immediately, going to him and sinking easily into his embrace and kissing back when he kissed him. His father hummed happily, squeezing him softly.

“Got a recording,” Michael told him, when they parted, “If you wanna see.”

His father laughed, but looked very pleased and excited, “In a minute,” He said, “Let me get my light turned off… Then we can head upstairs, alright?”

“Okay,” Michael agreed.

And he waited at the bottom of the stairs for his father to turn off the light in his study and then escort him upstairs, to his father’s room.

“We’re gonna do it like this,” His father explained, gently, guiding him onto his lap as he sat up against the headboard, “I’m gonna put my cock in you, and I’m gonna watch that video, and if you’re real good while I’m watching…”

“Okay,” Michale agreed again, letting his father pull his pants down and press a finger into his loose hole.

Making a satisfied noise, his father pulled down his own pants and had him lower himself onto his practically soft cock.

Admittedly, Michael was pretty excited to be able to feel him get hard inside of him.

“The video?” His father prompted, after letting Michael wiggle himself for a moment.

“Oh, right,” Michael pulled his phone back out of his hoodie pocket and unlocked it, handing it to his father.

His father pulled him closer, tucking him fully up against him until he could simply hold him while also holding the phone. Michael heard him turn the volume up, then press play. His cock twitched inside of Michael almost immediately, and he sound of himself moaning around Jay’s cock in his throat had Michael squirming a little. But his daddy held him still for the whole video, hardening inside of him and twitching from time to time and once even rolling his hips up into him.

“Oh you  _ are _ a pretty little slut,” His daddy uttered, as he discarded the phone and rolled his hips up roughly, “You put your mouth to good use for the cameraperson?”

“She rode my face,” Michael told him, trying to squirm so he could fuck himself down on his daddy’s cock but getting nowhere with it, “Her n’ Jay like my mouth the best,”

“It  _ is _ a good mouth,” His daddy mused, rolling his hips up again, pace measured, “But I think I’m of the opinion that this greedy little hole is my favorite. Even after all of that and what must have come after, you’re  _ still _ so ready for me to fill you up. Is this even  _ payment _ to you?”

“Daddy,” He whined, instead of answering that.

His daddy just laughed, then mercifully began to fuck up into him at a punishing pace that had him gasping.

“Actually,” His daddy said, after a moment or two of that, “How about you take what you want, hm? Fuck yourself on my cock, baby boy. Make me fill you up.”

Michael eagerly took the invitation and began to ride him, sitting up for better leverage as he did so.

“Good boy.” His daddy crooned, squeezing his hips and smacking him on the ass, “Pretty, precious little slut. So good at this…”

And Michael was going to come down from the high soon, and he was  _ not _ looking forward to it. He should get this over with while he could still totally enjoy it―so he clenched around his daddy’s cock and wiggled his hips, picking up the pace a bit. His daddy groaned, twitching inside of him, and Michael sighed happily. And then his daddy was stroking his cock while he rode him and he tensed up around him and came with a shout and his daddy was taking over to fuck him through his orgasm and then through his own.

Michael hated the gathering clarity he had, slumping against his daddy and panting quietly. He needed to get to bed to not be dealing with this right now, but he got the strangest feeling he was going to be here for the rest of the night. He didn’t think his daddy was going to make him go to his room, or  _ let _ him go to his room.

“Tired, Mikey?” His daddy crooned after a couple of moments of him laying against him.

“Mhm.” Michael squeezed his eyes shut against the way he was starting to be sort of disgusted by the feeling of his father’s cock inside of him, knowing trying to get away at this stage wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“Let’s get you to sleep,” He said, pulling him up off of his cock and laying him down next to him. “You’ve probably got a  _ long _ night tomorrow night.”

“Mm,” Michael tried to get comfortable, aware he was stuck here for the night since his father hadn’t yet told him to go to his own room.

His father tucked the covers up around them and seemed to promptly fall asleep.

Michael laid there a few moments before sighing to himself, clenching his eyes shut, and trying to fall asleep as well.

* * *

“Mikey,” His father said softly from far too closeby, “Up and at ‘em, baby.”

He blinked himself awake, previous night coming back to him and almost making him jerk up off the bed and gag immediately. Instead, he just looked at his father in tired question.

“Give me your arm, sweetheart.”

Michael obliged, brow furrowing, and he almost jerked out of his father’s hold when he saw him line up a syringe. But he held still, only letting out the smallest hints of a whine. His father shushed him gently.

“Don’t worry, Mikey,” He said, “Just something to make you feel good.”

He lined up the syringe once more, having shifted briefly, and the clear liquid within… Well, Mikey hoped it was heroin. At least he knew how to deal with a heroin high―he’d done  _ that _ before. And while it wouldn’t fuck him up  _ quite _ like everything else he did, it’d get him high enough that he could at least just let this happen without checking out.

Obviously his father was planning  _ something. _

He wouldn’t just inject him with something to make him “feel good” for no reason.

A couple of moments passed after the injection, and Michael felt the familiar sleepy, floaty feeling of heroin kicking in. The ‘sleepy’ part was only intensified by the fact that he’d only woken up a few minutes ago, and something told him that was… Kind of the point.

“On your belly for me, Mikey,” His daddy purred, and Michael barely thought before he was rolling fully onto his stomach.

His daddy pulled his still half-off pants the rest of the way off and discarded them.

He was not praised for obeying, like he had been so far when it got sexual, and against all odds he found himself mumbling, “Did I do something wrong, Daddy?”

“Not at all,” He was assured, his daddy’s hands landing on his ass and squeezing, “You’re being a very good boy, Mikey.”

Suitably soothed, Mikey relaxed and simply waited, floating in a comfortable half-asleep state for a while as his daddy sort of just massaged his ass. And then his cheeks were being spread, and his daddy swept a thumb over his leaking hole. He sighed, shifting a little.

His daddy pulled away for a moment, then returned before he could work up the strength to question what was going on.

Something pressed into him, and he kind of/sort of recognized the sensation.

There was a soft click once it was pressed fully into him, and then it began to vibrate.

Oh.

He laid there, making little noises and shifting, and his daddy… Got up? But he was back soon, lifting his head for him and pressing into his slack mouth. Michael couldn’t have fought if he wanted to―limbs heavy and useless, mind sluggish. All he could do was lay there and take it, jaw and throat loose around his daddy’s cock, hips wiggling weakly at the stimulation to his insides.

His daddy didn’t fuck his mouth, just sort of sat there in his throat for a long moment, until Michael started to struggle a little because he couldn’t breathe. He pulled back far enough for him to get a couple of breaths, then pressed back in. And so on and so forth, until Michael was softly whining―lack of oxygen and the vibrator inside of him making him dizzy and leaving him leaking pre onto the sheets. Felt  _ great. _

“Ah, Mikey,” His daddy sighed, beginning to slowly fuck his mouth and throat instead of just stealing all his air, “I should keep you like this all day… High and sleepy, barely even able to fucking  _ squirm _ while I do whatever I want to you. It’s a good look for you. Be even prettier if I tied you up.”

Michael wasn’t sure if he whined in response because it did sound kind of hot, or because he was terrified of the fact that his daddy seemed to want him just… Completely unable to do anything but  _ take it. _ Because even under the pleasant fog of the high he felt both of those things.

“Should have Henry come over,” He mused, “He needs to unwind a little lately. Fucking your greedy little hole might be just what he needs. Especially if you can’t be mouthy like I’m sure you want to with anyone but me.”

Okay,  _ Henry _ fucking him still sounded nice.

But he’d never been scared of Henry.

“Maybe some other time… For all of that.” His daddy hummed, “I don’t have too much more time before I’ve got to be off to work… Consider this payment for tonight, okay? I won’t be home until tomorrow afternoon.”

Michael, predictably, did not respond, seeing as he was unable to.

And, like that was all he’d been waiting for, his daddy began to fuck his mouth in tandem and didn’t even bother to give a warning before he was spilling down his throat. Michael coughed, weakly, but managed to swallow a lot of it. What he didn’t manage spilled down his chin, which his daddy ‘tsk’ed at.

“Messy,” He chided, “But I guess I shouldn’t expect much more from you right now.”

There was a click, and the vibrator in him hopped up a bit in intensity.

“See you tomorrow, Mikey.” He said, and Michael felt something drop onto the bed next to him.

And his daddy left him there, with the vibrator in him and still going.

Michael had already cum once and was coming up on the second time by the time he managed to get his hand on the vibrator remote, which was what his father had dropped next to him, and the second one crashed into him as he tried to turn it to a lower setting or all the way off.

He managed turning it off only after he’d squirmed his way through that second, overstimulating orgasm.

And he laid there, feeling dirty and wrong, as the high started to fade off.

He was… So screwed.

There was no way his father was going to end up deciding he wanted to stop. And Michael was starting to think his father  _ might _ eventually just tie him up in here and never let him out again.

He managed, eventually, to sit up. Pull the vibrator out. Find his pants and pull them on. Stumble to the bathroom and rinse his mouth out.

He really,  _ really _ needed something hard tonight, and he needed to go the full gauntlet. 9 to 5.


End file.
